“I don’t think so. At least not for a while.”
“Wanna make him suffer, huh?”
“No. That’s not it at all. It’s just that after what he did, I don’t have much faith in him, or us, anymore.”
I get a text from Aiden.
Aiden: Are you going to be back in time for tutoring?
Me: Yeah. I can meet you in the library at 7. Will that work for you?
Aiden: I’ll make it work.
I think about Aiden. About the mystery dream girl. About what Riley said about Aiden.
“Riley, why did you tell me Aiden’s a player?”
“I heard that he dated and hooked up with a lot of different girls last year. This year, it’s weird. He didn’t even have a date for Homecoming.”
Dallas says, “I’m pretty sure you’re the only girl he’s kissed this year.”
“How many have you kissed?”
“A dozen, maybe. Are you thinking about Aiden?”
“Oh, no, of course not. I was just thinking that’s sort of weird. For a guy that’s a player.”
“I could see you together,” Riley says.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You just seem to sparkle around him. And he seems to affect you in a way no one else does. You’re practically obsessed with him, but yet you say you hate him.”
“I do hate him sometimes. I think we might end up being friends though. Sometimes he can be really sweet.”
I guess I can relate.
7pm
I find Aiden in the library, sitting at our table, and grinning at me.
“So . . . saw the video. Dawson had to be going crazy.”
“I doubt it. He’s into Whitney now.”
“You looked very sexy in the video. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that side of you. Well, maybe a little at the after-party. Everyone has been talking about it all weekend. You have a lot of views on You Tube.”
“I don’t care about the views. I just wanted Dawson to see it.”
“He looked miserable this weekend. Even when I saw him with Whitney, he looked miserable. I can't believe I'm saying this, but he probably just liked the idea that she wanted him again.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it.” But then I look at him. “What? Now you're pro-Dawson?”
“No. I just think it would suck to lose you. I guess I can relate.”
“You've lost someone you cared about because you were stupid?”
“Yeah, you, I think. That night, with the Keats toast.”
“I was fine with the Keats toast. It just caught me off guard, but then when I told you why it did, you completely changed. Got mad at me or something. Didn’t talk to me. Made me feel like I’d done something wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I was mad at myself. Kinda like Dawson feels, I think.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Dawson liked the video too much.”
“I heard he smashed his computer. Remind me never to break up with you.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. We’re never going out.”
“Why's that?”
“I’m love cursed and I’m never going out with a boy again.”
Hell, I predicted it.
8:30pm
Sitting on the brick wall outside my dorm, dealing with Dawson.
“Keatie,” he pleads. “Please tell me we’re not over. Give me another chance.”
“Absolutely not.”
He looks at me with puppy dog eyes, but then he gets that determined set to his jaw, and pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry.”
I try to stay stiff against the hug. I’m mad at him, but I also sort of understand. That doesn’t mean that I don’t hurt, or that I can forget, but I sort of understand.
Hell, I called it.
I knew it was going to happen. Screw the psychic panty hotline. Maybe I should become a relationship psychic. I foresaw the future. And, once again, I ignored the signs and fell for him anyway. I can’t decide which one of us was stupider.
I soften in his arms and hug him back.
He looks miserable.
“Look, I forgive you. I understand what you did. Hell, I predicted it. I knew it would happen. Knew we’d get happy, and you’d become more attractive to her because of it. I planned your makeover. I was just as much at fault as you. I never should’ve believed you. But you made me feel amazing and loved and sexy, and I didn’t listen to my head. I actually started to believe love could be a good thing.”
“Keatie, I was stupid too. I don’t know what I was thinking. You are so different, so much fun, and I feel like an equal with you.”
His eyes look moist. Like he’s on the verge of tears, which causes me to tear up. I try not to blink, so they won’t come out, but I can’t control them.
Dawson wipes away the tears from one side of my face and kisses the other side.
“I’m sorry. Please go out with me again.” He pulls the key necklace out of his pocket and tries to give it to me.
“I don’t want it, Dawson. Why don’t you give it to Whitney?”
“No. I bought you the necklace because I love you. You do have the key to my heart. I just thought for a second someone else did. And she used to, but I think you changed the lock because she just didn’t fit anymore.”
And although what he says is sort of romantic, I’m not buying it.
“We’re not getting back together.”
He looks defeated again. I hate seeing him like this. It’s the same look he had that night at the Cave, when I set out to make that gorgeous face smile again. And I did. But it wasn’t enough.
“Please tell me we’re not through.”
“I can’t say one way or another right now. I’m not trying to punish you or make you feel bad. I can see you feel bad already. But you know how parents always preach that there are consequences to the decisions we make? What you did hurt me, and I just can’t forget it.”
“Fine, don’t forget it. Forgive me. Understand. I was completely blindsided when she broke up with me. Then I tried for six months to get her back and now, all of a sudden, what I wanted for so long is being offered. I think I just needed closure, maybe. You once told me that Whitney should have forgiven me. Why can’t you?”
“That’s when you were drunk and pawing at my chest. I wish you had been drunk when she texted you. But, no. You chose her, stone cold sober, as you were supposed to be getting ready to go on a trip with me. Ego or not, it says a lot about whether you really loved me. If this is going to go anywhere further, you’re going to have to prove it to me. And, more importantly, you need to prove it to yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
“You keep saying that. You’re like a freaking broken record. You should tell yourself you’re sorry. I thought things were good. You wanted to meet my family, we were having fun, you seemed happy, the sex was amazing, you told me I owned you, and then poof. A few texts from her, and I’m history. I can’t forget that because you think you’re sorry.”
He hangs his head. “Shit. Everything you’re saying is true.” He pulls me close to him, holds my face like he does after sex, when he’s the sweetest. Then he tries to kiss me.
“I can’t do this. I gotta go.” I tell him.
I run into my dorm and collapse in a heap on my bed. Then I decide I don’t want to face my girlfriends yet. They will ask me a million questions that I don’t know the answers to, so I sneak out the back door and over to Riley’s room.
Revenge sex.
9:15pm
I’m lying on my side on Riley’s bed. He’s sitting on his wheeled desk chair, rolling around, unable to sit still.
“So, you talked to my brother and you’re not back together, right?”
“Right. And I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, no.”
“Shut up. Now is not the time to make fun of me!”
“Sorry,” he says, as he throws a pencil toward me and winks.
“This is serious. Talk to me about hooking up.”
“Well, see, there’s your problem. Hooking up is not supposed to be serious. It’s supposed to be fun.”
“Well, I’m trying to decide which way I want to go. I'm leaning toward bad girl. Carefree. Emotionless. You know, a girl version of you.”
“I'm not emotionless.”